Dream Stalker: Talented: Book 1

by Hopkins, Amy

  We went inside and found Martin nearby. He'd heard me laughing and shushed me. "He thinks it's actually scary. If he finds out how bad it is, he'll get rid of the only source of amusement in my life."

  I laughed again, and a little knot of tension unwound. I was terrified, but I could still laugh. That was a good thing.

  "Gibble's coming too?" He asked. "Who will look after Lenny? We don't know how long we'll be gone."

  "Melanie said she'd-"

  "Is ok." Gibble spoke at that same time as me and I stopped, surprised. "Gibble have friend watching house. He be feeding dog if we not be returning."

  "Wait - what? You have someone watching my house? Since when?"

  "Since it be looking like you be in danger. Gibble not be there all the times. Barg be watching. Barg owe Gibble many favours. Barg very bad at gambling. Gibble earn more favours from him easy." His chest swelled with pride at that last part.

  "Melanie's going over to check on Lenny. He won't eat her or anything will he?"

  "No, no... well, I think he would not."

  Martin led the way into the villainous lair - this place was too over the top to ever be called an actual house - to find Harrod putting the finishing touches on a rune of protection. He greeted us distractedly, before speaking, "Did you find the place alright?"

  "Yes." I said without a trace of a smile.

  "It look like the house of the Family Addams." Gibble said in his serious baritone. It was too much, Martin and I nearly choked trying to hold back our laughter.

  Harrod looked at him. "What? What do you mean?"

  "Mortals have pictures on boxes. Call it tell-ee." Gibble explained. I refused to look at Martin lest I burst into giggles.

  Harrod opened his mouth as if to ask what he was talking about, then shook his head and turned to us. "It's ready when we are." he said.

  Four adventurers, heading off to certain death. Well, hopefully not certain but there was a fair chance of it. Harrod and Martin both carried knapsacks and when I opened one that Harrod passed to me, I found an assortment of wards, charms and...

  "Sandwiches? Martin, this isn't a goddamn picnic. If we stop for lunch, it's us that'll be eaten." I wasn't sure what he expected this trip to be like, but really, sandwiches?

  "Can't hurt to have them." He shrugged nonchalantly. "We can eat them on our way home."

  I sighed. Humans. No wonder Gibble had such a poor opinion of us.

  Though none of us wanted to leave the safe confines of the city, we knew there was no point delaying. We set off, Harrod warding the gargantuan door behind us.

  * * *

  It only took a few minutes to walk to the circles of gates. Being so close to a major thoroughfare like this was a reminder of the money Harrod had behind him - real estate here didn't come cheap.

  We donned the runes, worked onto leather straps that hung around our necks. They would help ward off some of the more unsavoury creatures of the Otherworld. Gibble didn't need them - as long as he didn't piss anyone off directly, he was pretty safe in the otherworld. There was a moment of awkward shuffling while we sorted out the contact points - we all had to be touching each other as we went through to make certain we landed in the same place. Martin and I both clasped one of Harrod's hands. My other hand was in Gibble’s - not needed, because he could control his landing, but much welcomed. Harrod uttered the words that turned on the port-gate and we stepped into it. Everything turned inside out.

  My breath was sucked from my body and my eyes felt like they were being pushed out of my head. I was weightless. I weighed more than concrete. I was full of fire and ice, I was liquid like water and solid like stone.

  I fell.

  The ground met my body with a jarring thud. Carefully, I picked myself up from the ground amidst the grunt of my companions, not letting go of Harrod's hand just yet.

  "Everyone here?" I asked.

  "I am here, you are here, clever man and little man with little head is here." Gibble's voice rumbled next to me.

  "I think he means you." Martin’s voice came out of the darkness.

  "I don't have a little head," Harrod complained. "First my house, now my head. You need better servants."

  "I not be servant," Gibble exclaimed at the same I said "He's not my servant".

  "Alright, alright. You can let go now, I think it's safe."

  Harrod's hand left mine and I stood carefully, pulling out my wand, trying to be ready for what was to come.

  Chapter Nine

  I traced a spell, throwing a ball of light into the air. It lit the area we were in wanly, casting eerie shadows around us. A moment later, Harrod threw up one of his own - his was brighter and the light it created spread far into the distance like a tiny sun. I dismissed mine, embarrassed at its dim light.

  "Save your strength," Harrod said, seemingly unaware of how condescending it sounded.

  Our faces were pale in the blue light. Despite its brightness, shadows wound around us, moving in a way they really shouldn't have been. Around my neck, the rune I wore felt heavy, like it had an added weight in this strange world.

  "Remember, don't stray off the path, don't talk to anyone, don't touch anything," Harrod said.

  "This be Gibble's home. Gibble knows rules, silly mortal." The ground was uneven and I slipped my hand into Gibble's as I spoke to help my balance. He looked down at me briefly, and smiled before shooting a glance back at Harrod.

  "I don't think he was talking to you, Gib."

  "Oh. Apologies, silly mortal."

  "Hold hands," I said. "If we form a chain, it'll be harder to get... lost." I didn't want to say taken. I didn't even want to think it.

  I was still holding Gibble’s hand and I reached for Harrod. He took my hand. "Martin?" He said.

  "Yes, that's me holding yours."

  Harrod went white. "Nobody move."

  "What's wrong?" I asked as he looked towards Martin, terrified.

  "No one is holding my other hand," he whispered.

  Martin looked down in confusion. Harrod and Gibble both reached out to grab Martin, just as he was yanked away, then dematerialised in a puff of darkness. Harrod tried to let go of my hand, to go after him but I held on. Gibble grabbed him by the scruff and hauled him back.

  "Martin!" Harrod screamed after his brother. "Martin!"

  I pulled him around, yanking at his arm to get him to face me. "We'll find him; we'll get him back!" I said. Harrod's breath heaved and he trembled with the effort of staying put. He looked out into the Otherworld, sending his light globe in the direction we'd last seen Martin. It revealed nothing but an empty field covered in purple grass.

  "What you bring for offerings?" Gibble asked.

  "Offerings?" Harrod panted, eyes darting around, still looking for a face in the darkness.

  "Yes, you want see Guardians, you must bring offering. You no bring offering?"

  "No," Harrod said.

  "Oh. Is ok then. Your friend be with Guardians. They think him offering!"

  "Oh Gods." If Harrod's face was pale before it was positively white now. "What will they do to him?"

  "Oh, they might play with him a little but they not hurt him until you there."

  "And when we're there?" I asked, worried

  "Well... we must be telling them the playing is the offering, not the human's own self. They will not be very happy and you might have to fight to get him back, but maybe they just give him. Depends if he good at playing."

  "Playing... what?" I wasn't sure if I actually wanted to hear the answer.

  "Oh. Well. They not be hurting him." Was it possible for a boggart to blush?

  Right. Definitely didn't want the answer then. If the Guardians were Fae, I could imagine what 'play' meant. He might actually enjoy it, as long as Harrod didn't get us all killed when we got there. Judging by the look on his face, he knew what 'play' meant too. I mentally reduced our chances of survival from even odds down to about four percent.

  We set off along a glitter
ing path, the three of us holding hands awkwardly. The small noises we made were swallowed by the deafening silence. Though it seemed we were walking on a path through an open field of green flowers, the night pressed down on us like we were trapped in a closed corridor with stale air and no space to breath. I dropped my eyes so I could only see the path and focused on the two hands I was holding.

  Gibble's hand was rough and inhuman. As a child, that hand had pulled me to safety more than once. Falling out of trees, off walls, once out of a window while trying to charm a bird the way they did in the mortal movies. Though slow and lumbering in his everyday movement, Gibble could move like lightening when compelled.

  In my other hand, Harrod's felt warm and... human. I thought about my anger towards him and realised it had been slowly dissipating. His reaction to the way Martin was taken had exhausted it. The guilt and fear in Harrod's eyes was burned into my memory, and I knew I would never forget it. Despite our differences, my heart ached for him. The brothers were close, and relied on each other so much. I cared about Martin of course and wanted him back, but not like Harrod did.

  We travelled in silence, walking quickly. I sensed Harrod's desire to hurry, felt it myself, but I knew running was pointless. The Otherworld wasn't a place of distances - it was said you would get to your destination when you were wanted, not a moment before. God help you if no one wanted to see you. Stories of Talented seeking audience here and never returning were common, though most did make it out eventually.

  Suddenly, a light appeared ahead of us. Gibble rumbled a noise - not worry, but not exactly happy either.

  "What is it?" I asked.

  "Not where we wants to be" was the reply.

  Harrod stopped at that.

  "You can't turn around. They'll take us where they want us to go, nowhere else. Even if you tried to go back to look for him, you'd just end up somewhere else entirely Harrod," I said. He knew this, better than I did. Harrod pressed his lips together, set his shoulders and continued walking along the narrow path.

  We pressed on, the light coming towards us forming into the glow of a gathering. It looked like some kind of night market. Shanty stalls lined the sides of the path, which wound between stalls but never crossed over itself. Some of the vendors were creatures I had never seen. Others I knew, or knew of. There was a goblin hawking charms for those crossing the Otherworld. There was a giant, gnarled and wrinkled, yelling at another one in what sounded like the old tongue. Off to one side, an old Fae crone sitting on a stool with an empty blanket in front of her. She had white hair to her feet and blank eyes that stared at nothing. I couldn't help the feeling she was watching me, and my eyes followed her as we passed. Next to her, a creature made of tree bark and winding vines swayed in the absent breeze.

  As we walked, the space became more crowded though no one crossed onto our path. We gripped hands tightly, and I for one wasn't ashamed to admit it was partly out of fear. Harrod kept his head down and would flinch if one of the creatures started towards us, though Gibble seemed his usual, easy self.

  At first, the creatures ignored us, going about their business. As we waded deeper into the market, eyes of purple and shining silver turned to follow us. Soon, they were calling at us, begging us to try their wares, have a bite, a sip, a feel of some fabric. They clustered around the edge of the track, following us as we tried to ignore them. Still, none of them crossed on to the path itself. They were holding back, or something was holding them back; I wasn't sure how long that would last. As I watched them more closely, I realised they seemed afraid of Gibble. As his big head swung from side to side, those caught by his stern eyes shrank back a little. He seemed to be able to sense when they were just a little too close and would turn that way in time to make them retreat.

  Just as I thought we'd make it through without incident, a small, knobbled man standing close to the road we followed thrust his hands out and grabbed my skirt. I screamed, and Gibble let go of my hand. He swung his arm, knocking the small creature back like a toy. It was suddenly surrounded by others of its kind. The cluster of snarling Otherworlders swarmed over each other, all glaring at Gibble and hissing through sharp teeth. They advanced.

  I looked in horror as Gibble swelled to twice his normal size. As he grew, sharp horns sprouted from his skin along his arms. Hands, once like mine if a little large and rough, stretched and distorted so that they looked like claws. His mouth opened and sharp teeth jutted from his jaw. He roared into the darkness "These humans be MINE!!" The creatures scrambled back, fleeing into the night. Gibble swung around, screaming the words again to direct his challenge at all who watched. "THESE HUMANS BE MINE!" Then, he faced us, fury and hunger on his horrifying face fading into a look of calm certainty, as he spoke the words one more time in a low and menacing growl. "These humans be mine."

  As the words left his mouth the third time, the night market vanished into nothingness. The sudden darkness was punctured only by a ball of Talent-light.

  I stared at Gibble, who was now cloaked in shadow despite the light from Harrod's globe. My Gibble. My Gibble, with horns on his arms and fury in his eyes. As I watched, he deflated somewhat. He did not change back though.

  In a voice closer to what he normally used, Gibble said "You, all of you, be bound to me. You be under my protection, and that be no small thing. There be a price... but now, I must be going. This place has taken a thing from me, a thing that makes me... like you. Like humans. It be taking some time to find it again. Go now, be safe. I be returning when I be my own self again."

  With that, he touched his clawed hand to my face. So gentle, this terrifying beast. As he loped off into the darkness, I felt tears well in my eyes. I prayed I would see him again.

  * * *

  Harrod turned to go but I resisted, just for a moment. He looked back at me.

  "I know you care about him. We can't stop moving though." He pulled gently at my hand.

  "I can't just leave him behind. He's my friend." I jerked my hand back, letting go of Harrod.

  "You don't have a choice." His voice was hard and it pierced the night, sounding loud in the silence.

  "How can you not care? He came with us to keep us safe, to keep me safe. I'm not like you, remember? I'm weak, I'm the bottom of the shit pile when it comes to power. He came to protect me, like he's always done."

  "Of course I bloody care!" Harrod's fists clenched and he flushed red with anger. "I care about Gibble but he can look after himself. Martin can't. He's a mortal and he's my brother. I'm the one who dragged him into this and I'm the one who brought him here. You say you're weak? He doesn't have a damn trick to keep him alive down here. I knew that, and I still let him come. We have to go to him before they tear him apart."

  I knew he was right, but part of me still wanted to be angry. We were moving towards his friend, but away from mine. I think he could see that on my face because he looked down. His shoulders slumped and his voice lowered.

  "Look, I know you... I'm... Gods, I don't blame you for hating me because of what I am and I know I've done some terrible things, but I'm trying. I'm trying my absolute damnedest for people like you, and people like Martin. I don't want to be the person I was before, but I'm still trying to figure out what to be instead, and trying to do that while I keep everyone alive is really bloody hard!"

  I was completely taken aback. I started walking, unsure of what to say. A tug at my hand pulled me back again.

  "I'm sorry." He spoke the words so softly I almost missed them.

  "Why? This isn't your fault. Everything you said was right, we need to keep moving." My voice wasn't as steady as I'd hoped it would be.

  "No, I mean I'm sorry for hurting you when... I shouldn't have reacted that way."

  "I... yeah, you're right. You shouldn't have. Still, if you hadn't, that guy would be crispy fries right now."

  "You could do that?"

  I laughed softly. "No, not by a long shot. I wanted to though."

  Silence again as we walke
d side by side, still gripping hands. The path we walked had no landmarks, no signposts, nothing to even show we were making progress.

  I took a breath, let it out, and spoke. "I'm sorry too. I let my own issues get in the way from the beginning and that was really unfair of me. You've done nothing but help, and you didn't even have to do that. I know not all Talented are monsters- my dad, he was amazing and he loved me just the same as his other children. I just got so used to the rest of you - them, being really awful."

  He sighed. "I don't even know where I fit anymore. I'm not one of them... but in a way, I still am."

  "I guess... you belong with us."

  He swallowed, opened his mouth and almost spoke. Then, his eyes widened at something off in the distance. "Look, over there. Can you see it?"

  I could. It was a slit of light, off to the side. I looked down and sure enough, our path turned in that direction. We'd been standing still so whatever it was, was moving toward us. That's how things worked down here though, so we increased our pace, hurrying long the road that now twisted in direction of the light.

  We didn't run, that was too dangerous but we moved as fast as we could. It seemed the Guardians were ready to see us, for the light moved towards us faster than our steps would have allowed. Before long, we were standing before an old stone arch, filled with glowing light. The glittering path we walked went right up to it. Gripping Harrod's hand tightly and taking a deep breath I took one last step and entered, my friend beside me.

  * * *

  We emerged into a cavernous room, white walls reaching high over our heads and ending in a domed ceiling. There were a handful of people who looked more Fae than any Fae I'd seen. Tall, slender bodies, bright cat-slit eyes, red lips and those who smiled at our entry showed pointed teeth. Oh they were beautiful, but very, very dangerous.